


First Words

by whimsicottly



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, and super self indulgent AHAH forgive me, its really just an ignis and prompto fic, just bros lookin out for dudes, noct and gladio are there too but they dont talk, not necessarily romantic of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 14:41:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10192211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicottly/pseuds/whimsicottly
Summary: Ignis notices how much Prompto apologizes in-battle, and decides to do something about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is super duper kaduper self-indulgent.   
> hopefully you like the concept as much as i do because it wouldnt leave me until i wrote it   
>  ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

It's a small, nearly unnoticeable thing. It's so infinitesimal, in fact, that Ignis is inclined to believe that he may be the only one who has noticed. How petty, he thinks, to be bothered by something as simple as the first words one says after being revived. 

"Sorry, sorry." Prompto says, life filling his lungs once more. He sits up, kneeling, from where he had been previously lying (dead) on the ground. 

Ignis had been the one to revive him this time, after a particularly grueling battle against an Iron Giant. They hadn't meant to be out this late, but one sidequest lead to another, and before they knew it, the party had been trudging through the Alstor Slough, being assaulted by a daemon. 

They were all exhausted from the lack of sleep and from the extended physical activity from the day's work. It was dark. Iron Giants are incredibly notorious. The slough was... a slough. These were all factors that lead to Prompto's death. Thinking about it, it's a wonder how no one else had died. These specific conditions were set up specifically to kill, it would seem. It makes no sense for Prompto to be apologizing. It wasn't like he had died on purpose, and even if he had, no one would blame him, considering the circumstances of the fight. These thoughts buzz in Ignis’ mind as he hears Prompto’s apology. 

"Ignis, we're going." An exhausted Noctis knocks him back into reality. Right, they’re still standing out here in the middle of the slough, and they still needed to get to the haven. He pushes the thoughts away and focuses on the task at hand – getting to safety.

As the group settles in for the night after a quick dinner, Ignis can't help the final thoughts that plague his mind as he drifts into unconsciousness. 

Why an apology? It's always an apology. It isn't as if Prompto had fallen in battle often, but every time he had, and a Phoenix Down was used on him, he had always returned with an apology tearing itself out of his mouth before he had even gotten his heartbeat back. 

Ignis finds himself thinking about it once more as he prepares breakfast for the day. Perhaps Prompto is merely apologizing for lessening their supply of curatives? No, it's not that. He's smart enough to know that these supplies have no use if not to be used. So what is it? 

Does he blame himself? 

Ignis pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind once more. There's no use in stewing over the first words of a team mate. Unless it directly affects the tide of battle, he has no business interfering in these matters. He's likely overthinking it, anyway. Sometimes, words are just words. 

As Prompto pushes his way past the tent flaps, Ignis' concern leaves him. 

"Mornin' Iggy." He chimes, though ever so careful not to wake the sleeping members of the group. 

Ignis smiles back at him, worry forgotten. 

– –

The next time he thinks about it, Prompto had just been struck with the full weight of a Garula. The hit hadn't been enough to kill him, of course, but the blow nearly sends him into a state of danger nonetheless. 

He's struggling to get back on his feet when he feels a hand on his shoulder, and a potion is being offered to him. He looks up to see Ignis, eyes trained on the battle in front of him, but keeping Prompto steady all the same. 

"...Sorry," Prompto says, out of breath, taking the potion.

There it was, Ignis thought to himself. Prompto hadn't even died this time, yet the apology was still the first thing on his mind after being saved. Before he could give his younger team mate a serving of his thoughts on the matter, Prompto was off and shooting again, quick to return into the fray of battle. Ignis followed suit. No sense in having a mid-battle confrontation about apologies, after all.

The battle is quick to end as soon as Prompto is up and shooting once more, Ignis notes. His strength is an invaluable force that fortifies the team. Ignis is making his way over to him when he’s cut off by a rather overjoyed victory cry.

“We’re alive! Let’s celebrate by eating something dead!”

Perhaps not now, then. It would be a crime to trample over his mood as it is currently. Approaching him with such a potentially sensitive topic requires tact, analyzation of situations, and patience. The interrogation will just have to wait. 

– –

Waiting, as it turns out, is much more difficult than he thought. Even with his unaggressive nature, Ignis has grown tired of waiting for the perfect moment to present itself, especially considering how many times the infuriating, concern-inducing, scenario has played out. 

It’s like clockwork, at this point; He takes Prompto out of danger, gets an apology; gives him an elixir, gets an apology; resurrects him, still gets an apology. Of course, it doesn’t happen so often as to actually have a stable, observable pattern, but it happens often enough for Gladiolus to have picked up on it, too. Gladio isn’t the densest person, though, in fact, he’s far from it, so the fact that he’s noticed means nothing. Ignis truly is just sick of waiting. 

He’s observed the others as well. When Noctis goes down after a warp strike gone awry, he is quick to thank anyone who takes him out of danger. On the occasion that Gladiolus is defeated, he is sure to show his appreciation towards his savior with a ‘thanks’ and a grin. Even Ignis himself is sure to thank anyone who had saved him during battle, be it through a verbal show of appreciation, or by preparing their favorite meal at camp that night. It’s just Prompto who fails to thank them. 

It isn’t the lack of an apology that’s bothering Ignis, though. In fact, he couldn’t care less; after all those years of looking out for Noctis, he’s used to being taken for granted, or not receiving any thanks. What’s bothering him is the subtext, the connotation of the apology. It must stem from insecurity, from fear, from doubt. Prompto doesn’t believe that he deserves to be there. 

Ridiculous, Ignis thinks. After going through all the grueling training and initiation to be a part of the Crownsguard, Prompto has every right to be there. There’s no sentiment attached; it’s a completely objective fact. Prompto can hold his own just as much as Gladiolus and himself can. 

So why does he apologize? As aforementioned, as Ignis had rationalized; insecurity, fear, and doubt. 

Next time, Ignis promises to himself. Next time for sure, he’ll give Prompto his thoughts on the matter. No more waiting. 

– –

Unbeknownst to Ignis, ‘next time’ comes quicker than expected. Prompto dies this time; gruesomely impaled through the stomach by an MT. He took the hit for Noctis, who had been too busy to notice it approaching him. A heroic feat, Ignis thinks. He and Gladiolus would’ve done the same. Any proper member of the Crownsguard would. 

After a semi-meltdown from Noctis upon seeing the rather macabre scene of Prompto’s guts all but spilling out onto the side of the road (an exaggeration, of course; while he had gotten impaled, it wasn’t quite so bad that his intestines would be strewn about. He was simply… heavily bleeding out. Nothing that can’t be fixed with a Phoenix Down and a Hi-Potion or two), they decide to find somewhere safe before restoring him, lest they are confronted once more by another mini-infantry of MTs. In his weakened state, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Making their way to the nearest haven before reviving him is the best, most practical course of action. 

Gladiolus is setting up the tent, and Noctis is attempting to start the fire when Ignis revives Prompto. It hasn’t even been ten minutes since the time of death, but Ignis is sure to work as quick as possible. He sets him down by the edge of the haven as to not get too much blood all over the place. 

A Phoenix Down and two Hi-Potions later, Prompto has regained enough strength to sit up. 

“Back with us?” Ignis says, carefully. 

Prompto clears his throat, not trusting his voice just yet. He reaches down to lightly palm his stomach, likely still experiencing the odd languid feel a potion leaves when used. Looking up, he meets eyes with Ignis for a fraction of a second, before looking downwards once more. 

“Yeah, I’m good now. Sorry.” 

And there it was. No sense in ignoring that, then. “What exactly are you apologizing for?” Ignis is sure to keep his voice low and unaggressive, as to not freak him out too much. It’s a simple inquiry. 

“Huh?” Prompto replies, meekly. He looks a bit trapped by the question, as if he knew it was coming, and he knows exactly what this is about. Of course. He’s not so dense as to not foresee this, especially considering how long the vicious cycle of saving him and him apologizing has been going on for. “I… I don’t really know. Everything.” 

It’s a lie, of course, and both he and Ignis know it. He knows what he’s apologizing for. He’s apologizing for always getting hit, for being reckless, for being useless, for not being strong enough, for not being enough. It’s too much to possibly condense into a sentence, though, and it’s not like he wants to tell Ignis all that, lest he ends up seeing Prompto as even more pathetic than he likely already does.

In reality, though, Ignis doesn’t see him as pathetic. Far from it, actually. He sees Prompto as someone just as capable as him, given the proper opportunities to grow and realize his full potential. 

“Prompto,” he warns. He shifts into a more comfortable position, one that would allow him to make proper eye contact with his team mate. “It’s important for you to understand that you needn’t apologize on the occasion that you go down in battle.” 

“Yeah?” Prompto lifts his head to make eye contact with Ignis. “I mean. I guess, but…”

The eye contact is an improvement, but his unconvinced tone is a problem, Ignis notes. 

He tries to start once more. Perhaps a different approach is necessary. “Do you ever hear Gladio apologize when he is in need of a potion?” He tries.

“Well, no.” 

“And Noct? When you save him, does he apologize?” 

“No.” 

“With that in mind then, where is the logic in your apologies?” 

Prompto fidgets uncomfortably before breaking eye contact, looking downwards. “It’s different.” 

“How so?” 

“I don’t know, it’s just…” He completely looks away, in the opposite direction from where Ignis is seated beside him. “They’re stronger than me. You all are.” When he speaks, it’s low, almost inaudible. Given the fact that his voice is being projected in a different direction now, Ignis must strain to hear it properly. “Nobody can blame you guys, ‘cos… You guys aren’t useless.” 

Ignis’ theory was right, then. Though he had his suspicions, confirmation is still a bit surreal, and he’s unsure of what to think about it. Prompto thinking less of himself in that manner would be like if the sun had thought it’s radiance was unneeded, or if the stars had thought their light was unnecessary. Completely ridiculous. 

He gently places a hand on Prompto’s shoulder, tentative, in an act of comfort. 

“Neither are you.” Ignis tells him, slowly, carefully enunciating each word in an attempt to communicate the gravity of what he had just said. He leans towards him to try and lock eyes with him once more to further substantiate his point, but Prompto is set on avoiding eye contact. 

Prompto looks downward once more, giving Ignis a better view of his expression. His eyebrows are slightly creased, and he looks deep in thought; troubled. Even so, it’s clear to see that he’s attempting to keep a straight face as to not betray how vulnerable he must be feeling. 

“I mean, sure. If you say so.” He says, voice still barely above a whisper. 

“It isn’t a guess, Prompto.” Ignis presses, completely sure of himself. “If any of us had thought you were anything less than the best Insomnia had to offer, you wouldn’t be on this trip.” 

It’s true, of course. Prompto had been a regular civilian before befriending the Prince, so applying to the Crownsguard was no small feat. Naturally, it involved an inhuman amount of training before he could be even half-ready. An inhuman amount of training that he took in stride. That act alone spoke multitudes of his loyalty and faithfulness towards Noctis. 

Ignis knows what Prompto’s thinking at this point; Something along the lines of ‘Yeah right, I’m just here because Noct wanted me to be there with him at his wedding.’ No statement could ever be more wrong. 

“Your strength is a great asset to the team, you know. Your skill and power are an undeniable fact.” Ignis starts, once he receives no reply from Prompto. “Your aim, precision, timing, and speed are an invaluable part of the group’s dynamic as a whole. Without you, victory wouldn’t come quite as easy as it does.” 

Prompto seems to consider this for a while. He looks as if he’s turning the words over and over in his head, checking if he had heard right. After a few moments, he turns to face Ignis. “You think so?” 

Ignis makes the long-awaited eye contact once more. “Again, it isn’t a guess. I’m sure.” 

“But–“

“No more excuses.” Ignis cuts him off before he can start feeling bad about himself. “No more apologies, either. You must fully believe in your own capabilities if you want to survive, after all.” He says, with a smile. 

“Alright.” Prompto smiles back, a bit of light returning to his eyes. “Alright! I will. I won’t let you down, Iggy.” 

“I know.” 

– –

The group is up against a swarm of soldier wasps a week later when it happens. Noctis is warp-striking all over the place, trying to incapacitate the pests, Gladiolus is uselessly swinging his greatsword into the air, and Ignis is desperately trying to come up with some sort of strategy. Prompto seems to be the only one doing any real damage, given that he wields a gun. 

One of the wasps gets close enough to him to knock him over, though, and he’s blindsided for a moment, faceplanted into the ground. Ignis, vigilant as ever, is quick to run to his aid, be rid of the offending creature, and to help Prompto up, in what is seemingly one swift motion. 

Prompto gives him a sheepish grin before cocking the barrel of his revolver, intent on finishing off the remaining enemies. 

“Thanks, Iggy!”

And he’s back into the fray.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading   
> hope you enjoyed  
> ( ´ ▽ ` )b


End file.
